


Into Fire and Into Ice

by loveyou-x3000 (Severa)



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, If Toga Survived AU, Injured Toga, InuParents Day 2021, Izayoi is a badass bitch fanclub, Newborn Baby, Pain, Recovery, Romance, Tragic Romance, Whump, baby inuyasha, tragic lovers, trapped in a cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/loveyou-x3000
Summary: In which Izayoi refuses to let her husband die.Artworkby@thornedraven
Relationships: Inu no Taishou/Izayoi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48
Collections: Inu Parents Day 2021





	Into Fire and Into Ice

"Bury here and forever all hope of Paradise:  
I come to lead you to the other shore,  
into eternal dark, into fire and into ice."

—Dante Alighieri, _Inferno_

* * *

It would be a relief to burn.

Three millennia had passed through the heart and soul of the Inu no Taishō. Three thousand years had come and gone, and now, at the end, he finally faced the specter of death that had haunted him his entire life.

Death had followed him in his footsteps since infancy, claiming the lives of those around him without discrimination, blind to the nuance of race and creed and gender, inconsiderate towards thought and feeling. And death had worked in him, too; though him, in his blades and his claws, stealing breath and blood in the twisted webs of his machinations. In those long, weary millennia, death had been gifted many bloody battlefields, many dulled eyes and haunting last breaths. Tōga had never left it wanting, insatiable as it was.

He had walked so long beside the shadows of death, in fact, that it had seemed almost natural to name his firstborn in its honor, as though it might speak for their war-worn friendship. As though that might mean anything at all when the end finally came.

It didn’t.

Death had turned on him the same it turned on all others. As it advanced on him now, Tōga found it disturbingly easy not to care; to accept the future that was fast approaching. The dark was descending, and he didn’t turn from it. He didn’t run. He lay there in the inferno and watched it creep towards him, licking across bloody floorboards and fallen rubble as it moved to consume him whole.

It didn’t matter that he was dying because _they_ would live.

That was his final comfort. Pinned beneath the fallen beams of the ceiling, staring up at the open canopy of the night sky, Tōga struggled to breathe and did his very best not to think of the burning. He thought of his legacies, instead: his wives, his swords, his sons. The little babe that had doomed him to his grave.

_InuYasha._

Orange-red embers flit about in the air like summer fireflies, carried up on the winds that blew pale ash through the sky. All that was left of Izayoi’s home was the wreckage— the flames, which would soon consume him to ash and bone. 

Though he had no desire to die, he knew it would be a relief when he finally met his end. 

There was a deafening crack above his head as the castle continued to burn, collapsing all around him. Flaming debris dropped down in a constant barrage and there was little he could do but shield his eyes from the embers and ash, holding his arm above his head as the other wrenched and pressed against the beam that pinned him to the ash floor.

_Damn._

Far above him, the eclipse had begun its unveiling, revealing the smallest crescent sliver of the moon. It was that same moon that graced the brows of his son and his first wife— the crescent crest of his clan, of the family that had seen him through the centuries before this night. Of those he had betrayed. 

As the flames crept closer - as they spread over his feet, his ankles, his calves, his knees - he was reminded of the rage that had burned in his son’s eyes. Though he was numb to the fires burning him now, he could not be numb to that. 

Sesshomaru would hate him no matter how he died, but perhaps he could do him the favor of dying on his feet. Suddenly determined, Tōga twisted until he managed to catch the corner of the beam in his palm, ignoring the searing protests that erupted throughout his body as he _pressed_ —

—and the beam snapped in two, burning red-hot at its core as it fell aside. 

Between that moment and finding his feet, there was only pain, the bleary anguish of blood filling his lungs as he stumbled out of the inferno and into the night. His knees hit the snow with a blessed, sharp relief as the mansion finally crumbled behind him, the wood heaving and groaning one last time as it was completely swallowed by the fire. Cold crept up from the ground and extinguished the flames that clung to his clothes and marred his skin, and then suddenly that cold was everywhere; Tōga hit the ground face-first, slumping forward into the snow.

The world was going dark at the edges. The snow around him was bleeding to red as tendrils of crimson crawled through the virgin powder, reaching out towards the forest in a gruesome latticework of blood. The wound Ryūkotsusei had torn in his side was only a dull pain now, but it was killing him all the same. Turning the snows to red slush, painting the world with the evidence of his life and his death.

He wouldn’t survive this. In the end, all that would be left of him were his blood and bones: InuYasha and Sesshomaru; Tessaiga and Tenseiga. He had left them plenty to discover when he was naught but a memory, when his bones were stored away. There were secrets buried in their bodies and plans left with his vassals to make sure they found them. That was all he had to give, and though he had prepared it with painstaking care, aware that he likely wouldn’t survive the fight that he had, in fact, survived so far, he suddenly felt as though he hadn’t left them enough.

And to Izayoi— to her, he could only leave his heart. 

Snowflakes fluttered around him with renewed force as the darkness crept ever closer, narrowing the world into a blurry vision of white and red. A storm was encroaching, but it was distant, too far away to matter, because by the time it reached him, he would be gone.

In his final thoughts, he heard Izayoi call his name. Her blessed voice, her tragic worry, her beautiful scent… And for that, he was grateful.

Then there was nothing but the dark.

* * *

Death, it turned out, was freezing. 

Laid out on a stone-cold something, Tōga listened to the voices that surrounded him. All of them were distant and indistinct, echoing through the dark. A baby cried, somewhere. A fire crackled. To his strange consciousness, none of it made any sense, but he didn’t try to make sense of it, either; what was the point?

He was dead. What could possibly matter, in death?

But there was pain, too, and plenty of it. So much that it was merely a blur of white and silver flame, consuming him whole with an agony that could not be defined or parsed apart.

Deciding he was much too dead to feel such things, Tōga slept instead of facing his new reality.

* * *

Snippets of conversation floated to him through the dark.

_“...should be,”_

_“...Tenseiga…?”_

_“Cannot revive… someone else… he wouldn’t...”_

_“...an idiot!”_

And later, the sound of a baby wailing.

_“Hush, my love, please.”_

It was Izayoi’s voice. In death, Tōga smiled, not bothering to wonder why he’d be blessed with her presence. Not wondering why he could feel, why his legs were heavy, or why there was a howling wind swirling and echoing in a hollow surrounding of stone. Why everything was starkly sharp when it should be numb.

_“I know it’s cold. I know. I know, I know… I’m sorry… I’m cold, too, honey.”_

Her voice was close to him. Close enough that, for once, he _wondered_.

Then darkness descended again.

* * *

The first sounds he truly heard were the coos of an infant and the sigh of a relieved mother.

“Thank you, Tōtōsai-sama. Really. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Then there was a familiar prick to his jugular.

“He must be─” Myoga was declaring, before Tōga’s hand flew up out of habit and crushed that tiny flea body against his neck.

“Ugh.”

It was simply a groan. He hadn’t even opened his eyes for the utterance, but it sent a spiral of things happening all at once: bodies moving, feet shuffling over stone, voices clamoring. Scents drifting all around him as others called out to him.

“Oh, look, the old dog rises,” came a gruff, elderly voice. “About time.”

“M’lord! M’lord, are you awake?”

“Dearest? Oh, here─ will you take him for me? Thank you.”

“But─ Bah, woman! I’m a swordsmith, not a nursemaid!”

A baby whined and huffed with an impressive gusto.

“Oh hush, Tōtōsai, let her─”

“Dearest?” There were small, cool fingers on his face, curling around his cheeks and brushing against his ears. “Dearest, can you hear me?”

_Izayoi._

If not for her voice, he would’ve known her by scent alone. She was moonlight on a winter’s night, cool white light spilling over blanketed snow. Calm. Steady. Beautiful and fragile…

Was she dead, too? 

Were he in his right mind, the puzzle before him would have been easy to solve, every piece of it large and obnoxious, incredibly simple to fit together. But in the haze of his healing and almost-death, blurred by the heavy fog of sleep, he found it difficult to comprehend how she was here with him. There had been a fire. She had fled to safety. He had fallen. He had _died…_

Hadn’t he?

“Tōga,” she called him again, quieter now, ushering him out of the dark with her voice. His brows furrowed heavily, a familiar pulse at his side trying to coax him along faster. _Tenseiga._ “Tōga, open your eyes.”

Somehow, he did. 

The pain that followed was immediate. It wasn’t the blown-out brightness of the world that caused it to flare, but the sudden crash of her body against his, her arms around his neck and gripping him tight. White-hot agony erupted from his side as he was jostled for the first time in what must’ve been days, every part of him feeling stiff and sore. He hadn’t meant to make any indication of it, but it was impossible not to; he grunted and grit his teeth against the lancing pain, causing Izayoi to recoil, pushing herself away with a fluttering of apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Tōga─ Oh, _Tōga,_ ” then her cold fingers - too cold - were back on his face where it wouldn’t hurt him, handling him like glass. “You’re okay.”

The world began to settle and he saw her for the first time since dying: pale and thin, hair hanging limp around her cheeks, glassy eyed and tired. It did nothing to make her any less beautiful, but her weariness had his heart skipping a beat in worry.

“Izayoi?”

His voice was glass dragged over gravel and ground against stone. It was a miracle he’d made any sound at all.

“Yes,” she whispered, pressing a desperate, soft kiss against his mouth. He was too bewildered to reciprocate. “Yes. You’re okay. You’re here. We’re all here.”

Movement around her shoulders caught his gaze: little Myoga, jumping up and down in an eager attempt to garner his attention, and two impossibly large eyes peering at him over the other, occupying most of the space on Tōtōsai’s thin face. It was a bizarre audience.

He tried to clear his throat before speaking, but his mouth was so dry that it did little to help. 

“...what happened?”

“Takemaru,” Izayoi tried, but Tōtōsai was ranting over her.

“What happened?! You were a fool, that’s what happened!” The swordsmith bellowed. Tōga cringed slightly, blearily watching Tōtōsai reel back and throw his hands up in the air. “A man with three swords chooses to fight off a dragon with his bare hands? You’re lucky that overgrown lizard didn’t rip your head off! You would’ve deserved it!” 

“Tōtōsai, really, what’s done is done! There’s no use yelling!” Myoga was saying. Closing his eyes, Tōga pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the headache that was quickly forming. His entire body ached and he could feel his energy slipping away from him, the shallow pool of it quickly depleting. 

“Wait, Tōtōsai-sama, where is…? Oh.” Izayoi’s fingers flexed against his cheek before they slipped away, abruptly leaving him alone in the cold. It was enough to make him open his eyes, to watch his little wife stand in a bloodstained kimono and pad barefoot across the cave. On the other side of a tiny fire, a little red bundle writhed next to the belly of Tōtōsai’s sleeping, three-eyed ox.

Tōga closed his eyes to the flames, reminded of the unpleasant sensation of burning.

“How did I get out? Of the fire,” he asked numbly, listening to the quiet sounds Izayoi made away from him. Reaching back through his memory, he tried to find the answer for himself─but there was nothing there, all his memories replaced with a stifling blackness. The time between then and now was a blank slate.

“You were already out in the snow when I found you.” 

Izayoi was back. He opened his eyes to see her kneeling in front of him, holding a red bundle that squirmed and cried and made the back of his brain itch. A baby.

“...You came back?”

“Well, I hadn’t gotten far to start with,” she admitted, hovering one hand over the infant in her arm. Two tiny, pudgy fists reached up, bumping against her slim fingers. “And I couldn’t leave you there. But I couldn’t move you, either…” 

“She tended to your wounds until Tōtōsai arrived,” Myoga chimed in helpfully. Alongside his leg, a sword pulsed; Tōga glanced aside to Tenseiga, making itself and its strange powers known again. Had it helped save him?

“I just tried to stop the bleeding,” she murmured, tipping to sit on the side of her leg as a wave of exhaustion poured over her. “It wouldn’t have meant anything if I weren’t able to get you somewhere safe.”

“Be glad your swords called for me!” Tōtōsai added, no less incensed than before. “Or they would’ve found all three of you dead in the snow!”

Tōga sighed. Izayoi reached out, leaning forward to take his hand in hers where it lay in his lap. 

“Rest, dearest,” she whispered. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll,” he parroted softly, letting his gaze drift down to the baby she was holding. Again, he felt as if there was something he should know, but all his thoughts were murky.

“Rest,” she said again, and there was nothing he could do but obey.

* * *

When he woke next, things were a little clearer. But they were also a little colder.

Opening his eyes to a dim world, Tōga was faced with the darkness of a long night, pale moonlight casting the frigid cave in deep shadows and soft light. There was a fire dwindling against its chill, reduced to embers and brittle coal before him. And after all that biting cold came the pain─ the achingly present thrum of his side, the itch of his skin knitting itself back together stitch by agonizing stitch. 

He had survived. But barely.

Tōga sighed, forcing himself to remain steady as the waking world reignited all his suffering. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he gingerly lifted one hand to cradle the wound along his ribs, probing lightly against fabric. It had sealed itself, at least. 

Next came the careful examination of his legs, rousing the memories of his burning as he pressed aside and pulled up the tattered remnants of his hakama. The skin was marred, numb, and uneven, cratered like a mountain quarry, speaking towards the burnt and misshapen muscles beneath. Not being able to feel his own touch was only slightly concerning, but there were areas in which he could detect the pressure─ signs of healing, however slow it might be. 

With a short sigh, Tōga leaned back against the cave wall, focusing on his surroundings instead of himself. As before, the cave was cold and dark, filled with the gentle sounds of insects crawling and water dripping, that dwindling fire at his feet cracking and dying, but there was little else. So far as he could tell, he was alone. Izayoi was nowhere to be seen, but he only worried a moment before he realized she was nearby; by the trail of small footprints across the snow outside and the rustling sounds that came from the forest, he knew she had not gone far. 

So he waited in silence for her to return, wondering if he would be able to catch sight of her before sleep claimed him again.

Until a gentle snore at his side startled him out of his reverie.

Eyes snapping to the sound, Tōga was greeted by the sight of a tiny flea demon snoring contentedly on his back, louder than he had any right to be. It was nothing worth being startled over, of course, and Tōga couldn’t help feeling a little foolish at being taken off guard, but something else caught his attention first. 

Laying beside him on the fur that had gathered at his hip - where Myoga slept so soundly - was a familiar bundle of red fabric that twitched and sighed like a living thing. 

Tōga remembered burning, remembered dying, and then remembered his last words:

_InuYasha._

A baby with silver hair and soft olive skin slept peacefully in the robe of the firerat, swaddled tightly against the cold and laid to rest in his soft furs. All at once, reality came crashing down in Tōga’s mind, context finally given for everything that had happened─

 _Ryokotsusei. Takemaru. Izayoi. InuYasha._ His battle, his fighting, his dying; why it had all had to happen, and why he’d forged the swords of heaven and earth before running to his death.

He’d meant to die so his son could live, and yet…

_Izayoi._

She’d refused to let him go.

Carefully, and almost of its own accord, his hand lowered and he brushed his knuckles against the baby’s cheek, making his nose wrinkle softly in his sleep. He was so small, Tōga thought. So impossibly fragile. When he’d still been just an idea in his mother’s belly, it had seemed like the natural thing to war and fight on his behalf; but seeing him now, all that seemed pointless. How had he ever intended to leave this tiny, breakable child alone in this world? Protected only by his mother’s wits and the promise of a sword?

What a fool he’d been.

When Sesshomaru had been small, he’d never worried over him. Even as a child his firstborn had seemed ruthless, carrying the blood of a conqueror in his veins. But now, faced with a child who didn’t carry pure blood in his veins, whose very existence spat in the face of all things natural, Tōga _worried._ More than he’d ever worried over anything─ even more than he’d worried for Izayoi, whose existence was so fleeting and fragile. 

InuYasha was a child of the unknown, and whatever love he could find in this world would only come from those who had borne him into it.

“Tōga?”

His hand stilled over his son’s face. At the entrance of the cave, Izayoi lingered, thin fingers clutched together as she trembled in the cold. Gone were the bloody vestments from her birthing, replaced with the thicker layers of a haphazardly matched kimono, dyed in a variety of dull colors. She’d bundled her long hair up and away, messily draped around her shoulders. Tōga thought she looked less tired than the last time he remembered waking; but even still, she seemed thin.

“Izayoi,” he murmured, watching her make her way to him. He noticed in passing that someone had fetched her a pair of sandals, which tapped loudly against the stone floor.

Kneeling at his side, she smiled softly and cupped her fingers at her mouth, blowing on them before reaching out to brush aside his bangs. Her touch was freezing against his skin, he realized─ which was far too hot. When was the last time he’d had a fever?

“He didn’t wake you, did he?”

Tōga shook his head, letting his gaze slide back down to the baby as he felt something curl around his finger. InuYasha had wriggled one hand free to grab his claw. In his sleep, he squeezed tight to it, pulling it in close to his round body.

“You still need rest,” Izayoi whispered softly. 

“You’re freezing,” he said instead of acknowledging her advice, turning back. Uncertain of how long he could remain conscious, he knew he shouldn’t hold her yet. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally trap her in his arms, or hurt her if his yōki flared in his sleep. “Take my pelt.”

“Tōga…”

“I don’t need to be any warmer,” he insisted. “You do.”

Before she could fight him, he reached back with the hand on the less injured side of his body, peeling away the fur pelt from his shoulders with incredible care. It was as much a part of him as any other limb or digit, but it was made entirely of yōki; he could remove it far easier than he could remove any flesh-and-blood part of this form. And, thankfully, its yōki nature meant it had already cleansed itself of blood and grime

Pushing it aside so it didn’t disturb their sleeping baby, Tōga fell back against the cold stone with a little too much force, jarring his wounds. Izayoi touched his cheek as he grit his teeth through the pain. 

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” she soothed, forever patient. “Just breathe…”

He did. Given some time, the pain eventually ebbed back to its former dull throb and he relaxed, twisting his neck absently to stretch his tired muscles. Izayoi’s thumb brushed over the marking on his cheekbone.

“Sleep. Before he wakes up and starts making a racket,” she said softly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. Tōga melted at the sensation and sleep came rushing up, as if conceding to her command. “Trust me. He’s loud.”

Tōga chuckled quietly, reaching up to touch her hand, ignoring the twinge of pain that followed. 

“He’s beautiful.”

It was just a murmur, but in the silence of the cave, that murmur was more than enough. Izayoi smiled as he closed his eyes, squeezing his hand and guiding it back down to his lap.

“He loves you, too.”

* * *

Izayoi was right: InuYasha was loud.

In the past week, Tōga had spent more time awake than he had before, rousing at least once a day before his energy depleted and forced him back asleep. Myoga was assisting Izayoi in anything she needed, so far as he could tell; helping her set traps for food and find kindling for fire, occasionally rustling up money so that she could buy what she needed from a nearby village. Fetching Tōtōsai was an option when they needed something more substantial. Izayoi was proving that she was just as resourceful as Tōga had suspected her to be, hardly a cliché noblewoman helpless in distress.

This evening, however, it seemed their son wanted to put her at her wit’s end. Tōga was barely awake when his crying woke him again, but that didn’t dampen the baby’s howling any─nor did it shorten it. InuYasha had been crying for nearly two hours now, occasionally rousing his father from sleep when he gave a particularly loud shriek.

Resigning himself to the fact that this wouldn’t be ending any time soon, Tōga forced himself to join the world of the waking.

“Izayoi.”

“I’m sorry,” she was immediately apologizing, making assumptions as he cracked open his eyes, “I’ll try and quiet him, dearest. Go back to sleep.”

He shook his head, slowly holding out his arm to her. When he spoke, he did his very best to appear less weary than he felt.

“Come here.”

Across from him, huddled up in his furs at the fireside’s edge, drawn as close to its warmth as she dared, her eyes were glassy and tired in the dim yellow light. InuYasha was buried somewhere in her arms beneath the pelt, likely too distressed to feed despite his hunger. 

“...you’re still hurt,” she whispered lamely, though it was clear she wanted nothing more than to give in to his welcoming gesture. “I don’t want to─”

“Izayoi,” he interrupted, not entertaining her protests, "Please." 

She wilted at the plea. He didn’t wish to be sharp with her, but he also had very little patience for any martyrdom, let alone the scent of her distress. "I won’t die if you’re close to me, my love, and he won’t calm down until you do.”

“I’m not─”

“I can smell your distress from here. So can he. So…” With a sigh, he opened both his eyes, trying to draw her near with a soft look. “Come here.”

There was still some hesitancy left in her - pure stubbornness, he thought - but eventually, knowing she didn’t have much choice, Izayoi unfolded herself from the small fireside and went to him. It was with painstaking care that she sat down at his side, still keeping a healthy distance between them when she came near─ which he immediately closed, pulling her in by the shoulders to lean flush against his side. There was an immense discomfort at the touch, but he didn’t acknowledge his protesting wounds or the coldness of her skin as he forced her to settle in. Her health was more important than his.

“Relax,” he grunted, reaching over to untuck one end of the pelt she had wrapped around her shoulders. He drew it over his chest, allowing her to press her body against his while also trapping in their heat.

“You’re feverish,” she protested. He snorted.

“Good,” he grunted, leaning back against the cold wall and closing his eyes again. “You’ll warm up faster.” His hand slid down from her shoulders and traveled down her arm until it fell to her hip, keeping her close. InuYasha kept on screaming, though it sounded like he was tiring himself out. “Stop worrying about me. He’ll never calm down if you don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tōga sighed.

“And stop apologizing,” he murmured, tipping his chin down so he could press a kiss to her crown. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But…”

“Shh.” He nuzzled his nose in her hair, taking in her scent to distract himself from the dull ache of his wounds. “Just take a deep breath. Close your eyes.” With his free hand, he reached beneath the pelt and placed his hand on InuYasha’s tiny head, rubbing his thumb over one of his little ears as he writhed. Slowly, the baby started to calm, Izayoi’s heart rate beginning to level out as she conceded to her husband’s instructions. “There. That’s it…” 

Izayoi sighed mightily, her shoulders rising and dropping with the force. The gust of emotion that flagged through it warned him that she might be on the verge of tears, but whatever threatened to spill out was reigned back. Instead, she steadied herself, leaning in against him for support. InuYasha’s wails became cries, became whines, then whimpers, and finally he was only mewling, nuzzling up against her chest. 

Another sigh. Another gust of emotion that threatened to leak out. But Tōga held her so she didn’t falter, trying to focus on maintaining the steady circle he was thumbing into InuYasha’s scalp.

“Better?” he whispered, teetering on the edge of sleep again. In only a few minutes he had exhausted himself, much the same as their baby did when he screamed himself hoarse. 

Izayoi nodded, looking up and gently pressing a kiss to his jaw. Even behind the dark of his eyelids, he knew she was smiling. 

“Go back to sleep,” she begged, and now it was his turn to give in to her wishes. Beneath his palm, InuYasha found her breast and finally latched on, able to quench his hunger now that he felt safe. His mother jolted lightly, surprised by his insistence, and Tōga couldn’t help the smirk that threatened to curl his lips. 

“Only if you stay,” he bargained. “I can’t have you dying of frostbite, now…”

“Sleep and I will,” she whispered, but then corrected herself. “We will.”

With a nod, he found himself already beginning to obey.

“As you say.”

* * *

The waking hours were becoming more difficult to manage.

In the unrelenting chill of winter, he’d found some comfort in the cold. It had been enough to chase the pain away at first, to keep him numb and grant him some fleeting moments of consciousness, but there its mercies had ended. Like the feeble fire warring against the cold of this cave, the pain could only be staved off so long─and when it came to him one dreary afternoon, it came with the same cruel indifference that death had, curling a metal hook in his guts and _yanking_ , drawing him out of the relative comfort of sleep.

The great, gnarled wound that stretched across his chest erupted all at once, leaking liquid fire into his veins. Having enough presence of mind to at least grit his teeth against the pain, Tōga felt his body move of its own volition, hands pulling inwards to claw at his chest as he bared his fangs, bending forward. Stars burst behind his eyelids as new pains were jostled to light, barely mended muscles straining against bone.

Dizzied, Tōga breathed deep─and immediately suffered for it, lungs expanding with a torrent of bright white agony. For a moment he lingered in that awful, terrible pain, reminded of smoke and the taste or iron, before he forced himself to breathe again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn’t hard to surmise what was happening. In his healing, his body had prioritized, choosing to mend the tattered remnants of his yōki before all else. Ryūkotsusei’s attacks had left it in shreds, after all, which had slowed his healing then the same as it did now. And without his yōki mended, he would eventually come undone; nothing would heal, wounds would not set, and he would eventually succumb to the shadow of death that he had escaped thus far. 

To that purpose, everything else had been set aside: pain, hunger, thirst, and need, all forgotten, all unimportant. Until now.

This was when the real healing would begin.

“Dearest?”

Suddenly more aware of the world than he’d ever been before, Tōga cracked open his eyes and found his wife before him, her cool hands reaching out to take his face between them, holding him up. Were she a demoness, she would know the danger in touching him now, would be able to feel the wicked undercurrents of yōki, but she could not. Overwhelmed as he was, he could scarcely warn her away.

“It’s okay,” she said, as though she knew the violent volley of his thoughts. “I’m here, Tōga. Stay with me.”

Where the pain before had been a bleary sort, a veil that fogged the mind and numbed his senses, it now made everything overly sharp and entirely too bright. Like an artifact unearthed, the feeling of weakness returned to him in a way that he hadn’t known since his youth. 

“Iza─” he choked on her name, on the phantom feeling of a talon shredding across his ribs, “─yoi.”

“Shh,” she coaxed him, keeping her voice steady, her touch gentle. Before he could make any sense of it, she was moving, guiding him with her hands and leaning him bodily away from the wall, turning him to the side. “Lay down. Let me see.” 

Somehow, she managed his weight and eased him down onto the stone floor. Head coming to rest on a soft swath of his own fur - discarded for her own sake, and now for his - he screwed his eyes shut and held the lowest section of his wound, though that did little to alleviate the pain.

“Relax.” Her voice was only soothing, incredibly gentle. Like a balm, it smoothed over his mind, doing its very best to block out whatever minor pain it could. “InuYasha’s sleeping, just over there. Can you hear him?”

Cracking open his eyes, Tōga stared up at Izayoi, following the slant of her gaze. Turning his head aside, he saw their son napping peacefully on the rest of his furs, built up into a small mountain that depressed in a deep valley around his small body. There he slumbered, tiny heart pitter-pattering in his chest as he breathed long and deep, comfortable in the warmth of his dreams. 

Tōga managed a nod. 

“Focus on him, my dearest,” she guided. Transferring his gaze back up to her, he watched as she bundled her long obsidian hair aside, twisting it around two hairsticks. “I’ll do the rest.”

_The rest?_

Though he reached to stop her, she was gone too quickly, leaving him bereft in his pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead, that sensation nearly as unfamiliar as this lasting agony, and he closed his eyes again, bracing his arm over his middle as though the pressure might relieve some of the pain. It didn’t, of course. Nothing would. Had he not tried to dodge the strike that had left this gaping wound in him, Ryūkotsusei might have rent him cleanly in two─and even in failing that, the dragon had left him with a mortal wound. 

Or nearly mortal, anyway.

Doing his best to steady himself, Tōga shifted focus. As Izayoi had guided him to do, he honed in on the sleeping babe beside him, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. In and out, in and out. A sniff, a huff, and then in and out again. The flutter of his heart was a steady undercurrent beneath it, strong and true. Slower than it had been when he’d been growing in his mother’s womb, perhaps, but just as vibrant. Just as strong. 

Tōga focused on his infant son and nothing else.

Eventually, the gentle scrape of metal against stone broke his concentration. Opening his eyes, he found Izayoi returned, kneeling with a large brass bowl beside her. It was the sort he remembered seeing around Tōtōsai’s hovel, burnished and blackened around the base. 

“Izayoi─”

“Shhh,” she hushed. Leaning over him, she began to undo the blood-stained ties of his kimono, gently pushing aside the panels so she could see the wound properly. “It doesn’t take long. I promise.”

“What doesn’t─ _ngh._ ” 

With a huff, Izayoi’s hands stilled over his chest, hovering there above the tattered remnants of his clothing. A little more forceful this time, she gave him a no-nonsense look. “Stop talking and let me take care of you.”

He couldn’t help the frustration that creased his brow, but it wasn’t directed towards her. It was the pain, mostly. The unfamiliar helplessness that plagued him from within. His duty was to protect her, to care for her and provide; she was meant to rely on him. That he’d been brought so low as to be entirely dependent on her was more than shameful─ it was a disgrace. The situation she found herself in - stranded in the wilds with a newborn, caring for her injured husband, separated from her family - was entirely his fault, and he was incapable of shouldering that burden. Forcing it upon her was unforgivable.

And yet, here she was.

Despite his blackened thoughts, he obeyed, falling silent. Satisfied, Izayoi gave him a small smile before she shifted her attention to his wound, gazing over the gore. 

What little gore there was, anyway.

His condition being as it was, Tōga hadn’t done much in the way of inspecting his own wounds. While seated, he’d been able to see the state of his burnt legs as they healed, but beyond that had been a numb mystery. Sleep was more important than trying to take stock of his injuries, after all; they’d take care of themselves as they could.

But what he was realizing now was that it wasn’t a case of his body merely healing itself. It was a case of Izayoi healing him.

His wound had been entirely pasted over with green maple leaves, three times as wide as Izayoi’s small hands and perhaps twice the size of his own, looking entirely out of season in the middle of winter. Confused, he tried to tilt his head to see better─only for Izayoi to gently palm his forehead, pushing his head back down in the gentle pillow of his furs. 

At her look, he relaxed back in defeat and she pulled her hand away.

“Myoga-sama brought me these,” she explained softly. Her fingers curled around the edges of the leaves, gently peeling them away. “Someone named Bokuseno recommended them? He thought they might numb you to the pain while you healed.”

One by one, each leaf was removed, peeling away with a sensation that brought images of skin sloughing to mind. Each was connected to the body with thin strands of cloudy fluid between leaf and wound, stretching like sap from a tree. Evidence of his healing, perhaps, or something brought on by the greenery itself. Tōga couldn’t be certain.

What lay beneath were the jagged, lightning-etched scars that Ryūkotsusei had carved into him, raised like a mountain range across a flat plain, cut down from shoulder to hip. Though some ridges and seams still wept with fluid, the external wound had closed itself with a delicate seal, leaving dead blood pooled beneath the skin in rivers and lakes of bruises. He was purpled, greened, and yellowed through it all─but it was fading, however slowly, leaving behind only the red-silver scar that would never completely fade.

“It’s been working, so far,” Izayoi said softly. Setting aside the last leaf with the rest in a lumpy discard pile, she reached beside her and withdrew a damp rag from within the basin, setting to work on cleaning his wound. “Maybe I can thank Bokuseno in person, one day.”

Tōga took a deep breath, not having any time to consider that before pain distracted him again. Wincing against the sensation of water against his skin, he sucked in a breath─and let it out slow, trying to steady himself. It wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was biting, itching against the tender surface of his chest. With gentle care, Izayoi ran her fingers over and between the ridges of his wound, trying to make quick work of her task as she washed away the grime. 

“There. That’s the worst of it,” she murmured, sitting back on her heels. After cleaning and wringing the rag, she dabbed the sweat off his forehead and cheeks. “The rest is easy.”

At the skeptical raise of his eyebrow, she gave a small smile, dropping the cloth into the basin and brushing back his bangs. She seemed tired. But nevertheless, she persisted.

“Trust me.”

Then, without any further delay, Izayoi withdrew a thin rectangular parcel from within the folds of her kimono, setting it on her lap and unfolding the stiff rice paper it had been bound with. Within were the same leaves, distinctly brighter in color than the ones discarded beside her, and it was with gentle fingers that she began to lay them out across his chest.

The moment the first made contact, numbness crashed over him in a dizzying wave. The leaf molded against his skin and immediately fit into every crest and ravine, settling as though it had a mind of its own, aware of its purpose and abilities. And then came the next, and the next, and the next, each falling into place over the last, blanketing him in a warm sensation of nothingness. With ruthless efficiency they absorbed his pain, quickly drowning him in a sense of false security─in complacency, laid as thick and smooth as dripping honey.

It was a return to where he’d been, before the pain. To the vague awareness of stiff joints and healing. But nothing more traumatizing than that.

“They last a few days,” Izayoi explained gently, smoothing her hand over his chest, helping the leaves settle against his skin. Now all that excruciating pain was merely a dull ache. “Does it feel better?”

Blearily, Tōga nodded. Slowly, he hitched his elbow underneath himself so he could prop up, doing his best to keep himself steady as he looked down on her handiwork. Izayoi was quick to try and help him, guiding her hands against his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he managed after a moment, throat dry. Though the sight of himself covered in leaves was more than a little ridiculous, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Because it _helped_.

“Of course.” 

The next few moments were spent hoisting him back up into a sitting position, settling him against the wall where he’d taken up residence. Beside him, InuYasha continued to nap in his peaceful swaddle of fur, little legs twitching and fists flexing like he was chasing rabbits in his dreams. Izayoi left him briefly again, discarding the dirty water and the spent leaves, refilling her basin with snow to melt over the fire, but eventually she came back to him with a small ceramic cup in hand and what appeared to be a folded bundle of clothing, kneeling at the side opposite their babe. 

“Here,” she said gently, placing the cup in his hand. “Try to drink something.”

Tōga nodded, swallowing thickly. After a moment of consideration, he did lift his hand─and when his fingers began to tremble, Izayoi helped him hold the cup steady, guiding it to his lips and tilting with him.

Luckily, his pride had entirely exhausted itself, rendering him incapable of guilt or shame as he accepted her assistance. When the cup was emptied, she set it aside without so much as the slightest acknowledgement of his weakness.

“I asked Totosai to bring you some clean clothes, if you’d like to change?” she suggested, gesturing to the bundle next to her. “They’ll be warmer than what you have.”

Not bothering to consider the logistics of how Totosai was providing her with anything that rudimentary, Tōga simply nodded. He was awake enough, numb enough, and he knew he smelled. Changing out of these blood-stained tatters would likely do everyone a favor.

“All right.”

And so they did. Slowly, carefully, and with painstaking care, Izayoi helped him pull off his ruined clothing and cleaned him as well as she could, dirtying yet another bowl of fresh water in the process. His legs had healed better than his chest; he was able to move as she needed, tying the cords of the starched hakama himself once he settled again. Izayoi folded his kimono loosely closed for him in turn. The fabric was the same white as what he usually wore, but it lacked any designs or embroidery─suitable and practical, but nothing more. 

When they were done, Izayoi discarded his old clothing at the mouth of the cave and again emptied her basin for fresh snow - which seemed in abundance, luckily - and set the basin at the edge of the fire to melt. Tōga watched her, exhausted by her persistence. Was this her life? Caring for him and their child to no end? Keeping this cave habitable? How many times had she changed and dressed his wounds? Kept the fire, kept herself fed, and kept them alive? 

_Oh, beloved._

Falling in love with her all over again, worrying for her, and aching with guilt, Tōga opened his mouth to call for her. To bid her to rest. 

But beside him, baby InuYasha yawned loudly, wriggling unhappily where he lay. Tiny gold eyes cracked open to the cold world and he frowned with the force of a small army, screwing his eyes shut─and then letting out one loud, demanding wail. 

Kneeling at the fireside, Izayoi sighed, crumpling in on herself for a moment. Tōga reached out to touch the boy’s cheek, trying to soothe him, but it did nothing. InuYasha let out another short wail and twisted in his swaddle, too young to understand his mother’s burden.

Then she was beside them again, gathering him up in her arms, hushing him as though nothing was wrong in the world. Tōga watched in quiet awe as she began what had to be their routine; Izayoi rocked the babe and soothed him to whimpers before she lay him out next to the fire, changing the fabric diaper he wore, cleaning his face and hands and feet with a warm rag before swaddling him back up in the robe of the fire rat, talking nonsense to him all the while. 

“Look at those little claws! I know, it’s warmer today, isn’t it? Did you have a good nap?” With a smile and a squeeze of his little feet, she kissed his tiny nose. “What did you dream about, huh? Was it a good dream?” He babbled and she nodded, pretending to understand. “Oh, yeah? Mm-hm? Tell me more.”

InuYasha was mollified by this for a time, squealing and whining along with her cooing, but it wasn’t until she gathered him up and bared her breast to him that he was completely content. Latching on to her nipple without any consideration for her whatsoever, InuYasha drank to sate his hunger, cradled in her warmth and the soothing presence of the flames before them. 

And all the while, Tōga could do absolutely nothing to help.

He knew she was exhausted. He could see it behind every one of her tired smiles, in every stiff movement and soft sigh. But what she could do for their son was everything he could not do, as a father. He could not feed him or soothe him. In his state, he could barely mind him.

The only thing he could do was try and be there for his wife. 

So, with a surge of determination that bordered on recklessness, Tōga began to move as silently as he could, folding his legs beneath him, bending one after the other, trying to find the stone beneath his bare feet. Steadying himself with a hand on the uneven wall, he forced himself to stand, taking each movement as slowly as he had to. Then he bent - awkwardly, sluggishly - and gathered the furs at his feet in hand.

The first step was the hardest. But the next followed in turn, and then the one after that, until he was standing beside her, gazing down at the tired tears brimming in her eyes. Firelight danced in their glassy reflection as he draped his pelt around her shoulders, slowly falling to one knee─and then down to the next, folding himself to sit cross-legged beside her. He placed a hand on her knee.

“You…” she tried, but Tōga silenced her when he leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead. Between them, their little baby squirmed.

“Thank you, Izayoi,” he said, because that was all there was to say. All there was to do. He placed his hand on her cheek, fingers unbelievably soft against her skin. “For everything.”

For the rest of her short, fleeting, beautiful life, he would be indebted to her. Irrevocably devoted. Holding her now, he tried to express the depths of his love, trying to keep steady for her if she needed a moment’s respite.

And for the first time since dying, Izayoi finally leaned on him.

“I love you, too,” she said, understanding, and in her eyes there were the stars─the same that had looked down on him while he’d been dying, watching him burn. The same that had taken him in hand and decided to let him live. 

If ever there was a goddess trapped and bound to a mortal form, it was Izayoi. That, above all else, Tōga knew to be true.

* * *

Tessiaga stood as their silent guard at the mouth of the cave, but it meant very little when Izayoi roamed beyond its barrier.

Tōga sat at the opening of the cave - specifically _behind_ the barrier, which was meant to keep them _safe_ and _alive_ \- with his son propped up against his bent knee, letting him fuss with his fingers and claws, feeling him occasionally gum around the points to gnaw his fingertips. It had been nearly a month since the fire, and in that month Tōga had finally regained feeling in his legs and some mobility in his torso, now able to stay awake most of the day and help Izayoi as well as he could. Walking was easier now, giving him enough freedom to move around their cave for short periods of time.

Today he watched her gather snow to melt in that large brass bowl Totosai had given her, keeping watch over their lively little boy, trying not to let his mind wander too far as he watched her bend and kneel with her backside to him.

InuYasha squealed loudly as though to purposefully distract him, kicking against the robe of the fire rat that kept him warm─ and, in doing that, kicking his Father squarely in the abdomen. The fact that he didn’t immediately crumple in pain was nothing short of a miracle.

 _Brat._ Chucking softly, Tōga stole his hand back to tuck InuYasha’s foot back inside his swaddle.

“How would your mother have handled you alone, hm?” he asked the baby, watching his sunset eyes sparkle in the daylight. “All this energy in such a tiny body?”

InuYasha squealed, kicking a drumbeat against his stomach again. Tōga smiled, giving him his hand again to toy with while his gaze drifted back to Izayoi. She was determined to give this boy his first bath, even if she had to boil snow to do it.

“You see that?” Tōga asked his son, nodding towards where Izayoi knelt. InuYasha gummed his knuckle, golden eyes sliding to the side to look towards his mother. He was incredibly aware of his world despite his human blood, taking more after his elder brother than Tōga had expected him to. “That’s your Mother, tempting a demon to attack her from the woods.”

Izayoi shot him a look over her shoulder and the baby gurgled, kicking his heels again. Tōga smirked.

“I suppose I’ll have to raise you alone.”

InuYasha squirmed, digging his claws into his father’s hand. Izayoi huffed and turned back to her work, pointedly ignoring him as she shoveled clean snow into the bowl. 

“Just you and me, all on our own,” he murmured, thoughtful and dramatic. While the baby watched him talk, completely oblivious to his meaning, Tōga reached out into the snow at the edge of the cave, grabbing a fistful of it and working it into a ball. “I’ll make sure you know who she was, though. Before the incident.”

Izayoi sighed loudly as she put the bronze bowl on her hip like a basket, standing up and turning around to face them.

“Well, you certainly seem to be doing─”

And then a snowball hit her squarely in the face. 

It was packed lightly enough that it simply exploded on contact, breaking apart in a shower of harmless white clumps and powder. Izayoi stiffened as gasped, blind to Tōga’s wry smirk as snow obscured her vision.

InuYasha actually startled, his gums and claws clenching around his father’s finger. Apparently drawn in by her gasp, the baby turned his head sharply to the side to look for his mother, gone completely still. Waiting for an indication of how he should react, probably. Learning from her. 

At her annoyed huff, all the tension in his tiny body unwound. 

“─better,” she finished grimly, brushing snow out of her bangs. 

When she proceeded to steal back her son and dump the entire bowl of snow over his head, Tōga felt as though dying had been a fair price to pay to see her smile again.

* * *

Now that the threat of Ryūkotsusei had been laid to rest, their future seemed brighter than it had been in some time.

A month and a half after that dragon had been sealed in his valley, Tōga lay flat beside the fire that crackled in their little hideaway, letting his black-haired son snooze noisily on his chest. Izayoi was stewing rabbit in the bronze bowl over the fire, seated on the edge of the fur that her husband and son currently lay out on. He couldn’t imagine that she would find any sleep tonight─ not with the boy robbed of his yōki and his own weaknesses still prominent. Tessaiga’s barrier would protect them from any dangers, but its silent guard wasn’t enough to soothe the stubborn worries of a mother.

“Where will we go, after this?” she wondered. Her question was more thoughtful than worrying, a gentle conversation started over the crackling of the fire. Tōga rubbed InuYasha’s back as he wriggled in his dreams, his tiny human hands curled against his chest.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere safe,” she answered honestly. In the firelight, the shine of her dark hair took an orange sheen, dancing metallic around her cheeks. He hummed thoughtfully, nodding.

“Do you want to find your family?”

In preparing for his arrival on the terrible night of InuYasha’s birth, Izayoi’s family had abandoned their home and left her alone with the army that Takemaru had commanded. While everyone else had met their deaths, they had survived, and now they lived somewhere out in the human world. Although they’d been the ones to commission his death, Tōga knew that Izayoi was sentimental and forgiving to a fault. Especially when it came to her mother.

But to his surprise, she shook her head.

“No.”

With a sigh, she brought her knees to her chin, setting aside the flat ladle she’d been stirring the stew with. Totosai had brought her a myriad of things to support them in their time here, all of which Tōga expected he would have to pay dearly for, but he couldn’t fault the old swordsmith. His craft was at the forge, not at his liege lord’s sickbed.

“It’s not that─I mean, they won’t hurt me,” she insisted, defending them even now. “Or him, but…” she sighed. “I don’t think I could stomach the way they’d treat him.”

Or the way they had already treated her.

He reached out with his free hand to stroke his knuckles up his wife’s spine, offering her what small comfort he could. Mulling over their circumstance, the only answer that seemed apparent was the one that had once been impossible.

“I could take you home,” he proposed. 

She stiffened, twisting to look back at him. The surprise in her eyes was painfully genuine.

“But I thought─”

“Ryūkotsusei was the enemy that threatened you, and now he’s good as gone,” he murmured. “You’d have to suffer Sesshomaru’s company, perhaps, but there are worse things.”

Izayoi blinked at him, breathless. InuYasha sniffed and huffed, starting to snore. Tōga smoothed down his dark hair.

“You’d take me home?” At the shaking of her words, his heartstrings hitched. It was something they’d both wanted for so long, but the universe hadn’t allowed it. Not until now. “As your wife?”

He smiled softly. 

“What else could you be?”

For a long time, Izayoi just stared at him. The fire popped softly in the background while she did, bright embers flurrying around burning wood. Tōga said nothing, simply watching her. Though his question had been rhetorical, he knew how she’d harbored her disappointments about their marriage. Being forced to stay aside, always worrying in the shroud of the badly kept secrets that put her and her child in danger. Unable to join him as she should. Perhaps his first wife held no grudges against her, but his son had, and many of his vassals had followed suit. When the most powerful of them had moved against him, it had nearly made her a widow.

But now, with the enemy defeated and all his nay-sayers frightened back into line, she could finally be at his side─ which had been the point all along, hadn’t it?

InuYasha sniffed and broke the silence of their exchange, prompting his mother to speak again.

“Tōga?”

He dragged his fingers lightly across the baby’s back, staring up at her as warmth spread through his heart.

“Yes?”

She moved herself over him, leaning down to steal a gentle kiss.

“I love you.”

He smiled, reaching up to slip his fingers in her hair, falling in love all over again as gentle firelight made her glow softly in the dark. InuYasha snored softly between them.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Four years after that fateful eclipse night, Tōga leaned against a patio column and watched snowflakes flutter down from a grey sky. A silver-haired, dog-earred boy rolled and played in the mountains of snow gathering in the gardens, interrupting the otherwise peaceful silence, giggling as he and a few other children warred with snowballs. Against the snow he was a streak of red on white, moving far too quickly for his age─and reveling in his superior abilities, happy to let his peers chase after him.

Tōga smirked and wiped a snowflake off his nose, folding his arms in his sleeves against the cold.

This was the first winter they were spending in Izayoi’s new palace. It had been his gift to her for her twenty-sixth birthday, but it suited their son just as well. After three years in the house of his forefathers, his young wife and child had desperately needed a change. The Castle in the Sky was a place for yōkai, after all; not for humans and hanyō. InuYasha had been stifled by his step-mother’s strictness and the propriety of court, where his elder brother played tyrant at every opportunity, and he hadn’t been able to understand the scrutiny others put on him. 

Izayoi, for her part, had fared better than their son. She’d been raised in a similarly strict environment, and while she’d been more than happy to be finally acknowledged as a wife of the Inu no Taishō, even she hadn’t been able to hide her relief when he’d presented her with this gift. Though she’d found a gentle friendship with Sesshomaru’s Mother, that was where her pleasant relationships began and ended in his world. The loneliness had taken its toll; as had the scrutiny, and the simmering racism directed her way. Undeserved as it was, it hadn’t taken Tōga long to seek out a better alternative for her and their son. Once InuYasha had grown tall enough to clear his knee, he’d laid out his plans to make them a better life.

Here, nestled away in the mountainous regions of the northern edges of his lands, they could live in peace, no longer suffering the scrutiny of their lessers. The palace was well fortified and the lands were safe, giving them the freedom they hadn’t been afforded before. Tōga could come and go as he needed, knowing they were secure. They could be themselves, surrounded by like-minded humans and hanyō that managed the grounds, each finding their own sanctuary in Izayoi’s paradise.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tōga watched InuYasha shriek and tumble off of a tree branch into a pile of fresh powder below, having caught a snowball squarely on the nose. The cook’s children - three kitsune-born hanyō of similar ages - cackled with glee before their little lord’s head poked up out of the snow, ears and eyes slanted in a hot glare.

Immediately they fled. InuYasha gave chase.

“Is he causing trouble again?”

Tōga looked aside to see his wife gliding out from her rooms to greet him, dressed in soft sapphire silks that draped long down her arms. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her when she fit herself into his side, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. 

“Does he know how to do anything else?” he teased.

She laughed softly, pulling aside slightly after she embraced him. InuYasha had been tricked into stumbling off his path, and now he was sliding across a frozen pond on his butt, desperately trying to get back up on his feet. Izayoi tried to hide her giggle behind her sleeve. 

“He’s happier, here,” she said eventually, putting her hands around his arm and dragging him down to sit with her. He went easily, settling beside her on the edge of the pathway, still shielded from the falling snow by the awning overhead. “I was worried he’d never be able to make any friends.”

“Hm,” Tōga hummed, pulling her into his side to protect her from the cold. His arm hooked around her waist and stayed there, bracing her. “You’re happier, here.”

She blushed. 

“Maybe,” she mused, although they both knew it was the truth. “It was nice, at the castle. I liked being your wife─in front of everyone, I mean. I’m still your wife. But...”

“But it was too much?” he guessed. She nodded and he stroked his thumb over her hip, smoothing over soft silk. It wasn’t something she usually talked about openly, always preferring to keep her troubles to herself.

“I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. Why do you think I was always off to war? To you?” he pointed out. “Privilege comes with its downsides, I suppose.”

She snorted softly. 

“You just get bored easily.”

He barked a laugh, leaning in to nip the shell of her ear. 

“Do I?”

In front of them, InuYasha finally made it to the rocky shore where his friends rushed to help him up. Brushing off his red hakama and suikan when he got to his feet, he twisted to see if his father was still watching─and in seeing his parents together, hugging each other, he smiled and went straight back to playing.

So long as that happiness remained in his boy, Tōga would never mind dividing his time between his wives and his sons.

“Well then,” he rumbled, smiling when Izayoi tipped her head aside to give him access to her elegant neck. He kissed her there a few times, biting lightly against the spot that always made her shudder. “What if I said I was bored now, hm?”

She giggled breathily, placing her hand over his and squeezing softly.

“And what if I said I was cold?” she countered. 

Interest spiking that very instant, it took all his restraint not to sweep her into his arms and steal away to their rooms immediately. Moving his lips away from her skin, he caught her mouth with his instead, kissing her deeply while snowflakes drifted down around them. The children playing in the gardens all cried out in disgust - none quite so loudly as InuYasha - but Tōga ignored it as Izayoi melted against him.

“I love you, my dearest,” she whispered against his cheek, nuzzling her cold nose against his. The confession made his heart soar into his throat, as it always did. 

“No more than I love you.” 

And in that moment, the world was perfect.

* * *

[](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ce41d850c45637ada01e327841b4e76f/a56486a1a7372ca0-c9/s1280x1920/83faaf1900b348d8b9b91834d919c050dca36d64.png)  
[Art by](https://thornedraven.tumblr.com/post/640580664091082752/for-inuparentsday-i-was-super-honoured-to-make) [@thornedraven](https://thornedraven.tumblr.com/)


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